


New Paint

by BlytheAdorable



Series: Jotopa and the 115th Legion [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Depression, Drowning, Found Family, Gen, Jedi being more Mando than Jedi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, codywan alluded to, descriptions of death, gore kinda, sad clone is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlytheAdorable/pseuds/BlytheAdorable
Summary: Blue was drowning, in more ways than one. His new unit might be just what he needs to keep his head above water.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Intro to Blue, his backstory as well as some of Toby’s backstory. Rex makes a small appearance and is awesome as usual

 

Blue’s new unit was turning out to be nothing like his old one. 

 

For starters, their unit colors, hell even their armor, was different. Gone was the distinctive armor of the Galactic Marine with its deceptively soft lines on an elongated bucket. His kama was all that remained of his time under Commander Bacara’s exacting eye; the rest of his battle worn armor had gone in a trade with a shiny the day he was reassigned. The kid’s eyes had nearly popped out of his skull when Blue all but dropped the heavy load onto his bunk. 

 

The distinctive blue of General Skywalker’s 501st Legion was jarring. Often in the last few weeks, he would look down at his armor and be startled. This armor wasn’t his, wasn’t the kit and bucket that saved his shebs time after time. It was too smooth, too shiny; it lacked the memories he carefully hoarded. Where was the smiley face his sister Kit carved into his chestplate after a successful siege to match the one he’d carved on hers? Where were the scorch marks on his leg braces from the time Pyro accidentally set their tent on fire? Where were the fragments of foreign languages and factoids that Checkmate was notorious for scribbling on the nearest vod’s armor? Where was that truly awful pun he’d picked up from a brother in the 327th that he’d planned on sending to Toby, the one written in the inside of his left forearm? Joker used to love writing the reg numbers they broke on the sides of their buckets, and Blue was incredibly proud of his cluster of numbers, much to Joker’s continued annoyance. 

 

All of that was gone.

 

All of them were gone. All but Toby, and he was half a galaxy away.

 

For all that he was named after the color, Blue was starting to hate the sight of it painted on his too new armor. He was used to his scratched and scorched maroon, to the way the deep hue of his stylized flames went so well with the black of his kama as it flared behind him when he ran, to the quiet gruffness of his own Commander, the way his intensity contrasted and complimented General Mundi. Galactic Marines were a relatively quiet bunch, any energy they would have spent on goofing off and playing pranks channeled instead into a relentlessness that they were infamous for. Blue couldn’t quite shake it off, couldn’t make himself relax or loosen up and get to know these brothers of his. 

 

A part of him didn’t want to know them. Better to remain apart, to keep a certain distance from them as he hadn’t done with his old company. That way, when they died, it wouldn’t hurt so much. He wouldn’t feel suffocated by it, like he was drowning, his face contorted in agony the way his brothers’ had been when they couldn’t hold their breath anymore and the water poured in their mouths, and all he could do was watch, screaming and crying as he tried and failed to cut them from the restraints that trapped them at the bottom of that awful lake, and though he hadn’t died with them as he should have, he was drowning, drowning, drowning, drow-

 

“Blue.” He jerked, hands stilling on his rifle that he had been cleaning, the movements so ingrained his mind had wandered. Captain Rex watched him carefully from the opening of the lean-to Blue and an incredibly talkative brother named Fives had quickly constructed. Blue set his half rebuilt rifle to the side and stood at attention. The Captain motioned for him to relax, and Blue dropped his posture minutely. He ignored the concern lighting the blond Captain’s eyes.

 

“Come with me; there’s someone here to see you.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” he said woodenly and scooped his bucket up as he followed closely behind Captain Rex. 

 

They walked in silence for a few moments, Rex’s sharp eyes sweeping over the emerging camp as they moved through it. He didn’t seem to be in any real hurry, often pausing here and there to correct some shiny or scold a brother that should know better. Blue followed silently, his eyes alert, body on edge and thrumming with tension. Exhaustion, more mental than physical, nipped at the edges of his consciousness, but he ruthlessly shoved it away. Sleep would go a long way in solving that issue, but that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Not while everything was so fresh he could swear his hands were still pruny from the water, the stink of it lurking beneath his nails. 

 

“You’re no shiny, are you, Blue?” Though phrased as a question, the Captain’s tone said he was stating a fact. Blue saw no reason to lie to him.

 

“No, I’m not, sir.” Rex nodded, paused to inspect a shiny’s rifle. 

 

“Your rank?”

 

“Sergeant, sir.” Rex sent the shiny on his way and turned his face up to better feel the soft evening breeze blowing down the mountain slopes and into their encampment. 

 

“Who’s were you?” He asked once they continued on. Blue watched the sway of Rex’s kama around his legs, noted the scratches in his blue paint. Well worn, lots of memories, lots of being.

 

“Commander Bacara, sir.” Rex nodded, raised a hand to return the little Jedi Commander Tano’s wave. They stopped at the front of a tent. Rex turned, watching him again with those eyes that saw far too much.

 

“How many died?” He asked. Blue wanted to laugh. Was it that obvious?

 

“All of them, sir. All but me.” He lifted the tent flap and ducked inside. Anything to get away from the sympathy in eyes that saw much more than he wanted them to. 

 

——

 

“Long time no see, little brother,” Toby said. Blue stared at him, not daring to blink or breathe lest the hallucination be disturbed and he found himself alone as he always was. Because it had to be an illusion. Toby was busy doing clandestine shit with his pretty little Jedi that Blue was sure he was fucking and half in love with, if the last holos they exchanged were any indication. Toby was dedicated to his Commander and whatever mission they had, and there was no way he -

 

A soft thunk, a gauntleted fist gently punching his breastplate, shook him out of his thoughts, and he focused again. Toby was looking at him, a small, hesitant smile quirking his lips, but it was the subtle shifting of his weight from foot to foot and the anxiety steadily building in his eyes that convinced Blue that he was really there. No illusion, no daydream of his could ever quite capture all of his older brother’s anxious quirks. Toby was real; he was standing in front of him, and he was twitching like he was barely refraining from pulling him into a hug.

 

“H-How?” Was all Blue could think to say. Toby rubbed the back of his head and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

 

“My Jedi, uh, Commander Kaid. A couple of cycles after we got the news, she said she needed to give her next report to General Kenobi in person,” Toby said with a wry shake of his head, affection and something deeper that Blue didn’t understand thick in his voice, “and of course it’s only a coincidence that General Kenobi happens to be with General Skywalker and his favorite company in the 501st. A company my only surviving brother just happens to have been reassigned to.” Toby said with forced lightness. There was something there, Blue thought, a little outside of himself. There was something about what his Jedi did that Toby didn’t like. 

 

“What a coincidence,” Blue said, pushing his thoughts to the far corner of his mind. Better to stay in the here and now where he could keep himself grounded. The smallest errant thought could send him spiraling into the murky depths with his brothers’ if he let it. 

 

Silence, so awkward it was painful, and a thick lump formed in Blue’s throat. It didn’t used to be this difficult to talk to Toby. Not even two months ago the messages were flying fast and loose between them as they tag teamed against Checkmate and Lucky in a trivia war that had been raging since they left Kamino. Just hours before the fatal incident that claimed their brothers’ and sister’s lives, he had sent the anxious Captain a drawing so crude and poorly drawn that it could only be purposeful in its sheer awfulness. Blue could still hear Joker’s scandalized scolding in his ears as they kitted up to board their transport, could still see Pyro’s mock stern frown pointed in his direction even as his hands were busily braiding Kit’s hair so it would fit under her bucket, could still feel the soft pressure of the paint marker against his back as Checkmate scribbled something (he could never recall what exactly Checkmate wrote no matter how hard he searched his memory. The paint was still wet enough to wash away when their LAAT/i went under) he would later no doubt use to try and seduce the first native he set eyes on, could still taste the tangy sweetness of Snow’s homemade ration bars on the back of his tongue. Now, though he was full of thoughts and words and feelings so complex and agonizing that he could hardly breathe around them, he couldn’t get them out. They seemed to rise up to just above his sternum and stick there, a hot and tight knot of grief and rage that he would claw out with his bare hands if he thought it would ease his suffering by even the slightest amount. Or lessen the fear that covered it like a slimy film and crept through his veins with its sticky fingers, freezing his blood and slowing his mind, strangling him until he could hardly stand the sight of any body of water bigger than the fresher sink. He was broken, pushed far past what he was rated for, and it was pathetic how badly he wanted to hide that fact. 

 

“I-I’m sorry I wasn’t -”

 

“Don’t,” Blue snapped, interrupting whatever it was his brother would have said, but he had a good idea of where Toby’s thinking had gone, and he wouldn’t have it. “Don’t do that to yourself, vod. There was nothing you could have done.” Not like him. 

 

Over and over, his slowness to respond, to make himself _move_ , tormented him. If only he had been faster, stronger, better, maybe he would have been able to save them. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them again in crystal clear clarity, as though he was still down there uselessly sawing away at their restraints and hoarsely screaming across their squad channel for them to hold on: the silky flyaways of Kit’s hair spread out around her strangely serene face and mixing with the blood that oozed from her split skull to create a halo; the brightness of Snow’s headlight piercing the murky darkness as the thrashed beneath the heavy cargo, the wide beam of it splashing across terror filled faces; Pyro’s bucket in splinters, pieces floating idly by, his eyes gleaming as he pulled his knife out and cut a dazed Blue free of his restraints and pushed him up and out of his seat, the acceptance that crossed his forever smiling features as he pressed his lighter into Blue’s hands seconds before he opened his mouth and let the water take what it would of him. Blue screamed then, an animal sound that went on and on even as he tried and failed to cut through Joker and Lucky’s restraints, a sound that almost drowned out Checkmate, trapped beneath the same piece of bantha fodder that got Snow, when he told him to go before he ran out of air, voice so calm and so full of love it that even Snow stopped his futile struggling long enough to echo the sentiment.

 

“Go, Blue. Don’t die down here with us,” Checkmate had said, his voice light even though his leg was crushed.

 

“Y-Yeah, go and kick Toby’s ass in that game for me, will ya?” Snow said, breath coming quick and harsh through his comm. 

 

“I can’t. I can’t,” he’d said, so sure he would die down there with them. But he had, and here he stood now, broken and ashamed, in front of the only one he had left. 

 

“Don’t take on my blame, vod.” Blue said, casting burning eyes away from Toby. Surprise followed shame on quick feet when he felt a warm, bare hand on the back of his neck. Toby met his startled expression with a sad smile and touched their foreheads together.

 

“I don’t want to take the blame, little brother. I want to share your burden with you. Please,” Toby begged quietly, the look in his eyes so earnest and so reminiscent of the look Checkmate, Snow, and Pyro had given him in their last moments that he hardly dared breathe, “let me be strong for you now.” 

 

“I can’t,” Blue protested even as hot tears welled in his eyes and his body sagged against Toby’s strong frame, “I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Checkmate/Snow/Toby said, voice firm and so confident in his ability to do this one thing, and who was he to deny his brothers anything?

 

Who was he, indeed?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro to Tig, ordnance specialist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some mando’a included, definitions at the bottom. Say a big hello to Tig and the rest of the 115th!

It took Tig about two standard days to realize his new Jedi Commander had no idea what she wanted to do with him. Or any of them, really. He didn’t know what he expected of her, especially not after the talking to he and his new squad mates got from the karking Marshall Commander of the kriffing 7th Sky Corps.

 

“ _All of you listen to me. By regs, the four of you should be on your way to Kamino for reconditioning. The reports that I and my fellow Commanders have received about each of you,” and here Cody paused and looked each of them in the eye. The Commander looked haggard, the stress of the grueling three month long campaign that had no real end in sight finally beginning to show on his features. Tig was sure that he looked much worse. His armor was scorched and pitted and in desperate need of a new paint job, he was thirsty as all hell, his head had been throbbing for the last six rotations, and he wasn’t sure when the last time he actually lay down and slept was. Maybe two rotations ago? He was rated to go at least four before his efficiency began to suffer in any real way, but ever since his last bombing round, he was having trouble keeping things straight._

_Tig surreptitiously glanced at the three men standing at attention_ _beside him. There was one in 501st blue, an ARCie like him with armor so shiny it almost concealed the haunted look in his eyes. To his right was one in the yellow gold of Commander Bly’s boys with the most horrific scar across his neck. Kriff, it looked like he’d had his head chopped off. Last, there was one in the dark green of the 41st, the shock of white hair on his head and his distinctive ARF bucket making him stand out. Cody was Tig’s own Commander, but this was the first time he could recall having ever been spoken to by him directly, and of course it was his luck that it was for something bad._

_“...have not been to your best advantage. The only thing saving each of you from that fate is that there is a Jedi who could use the skills you’ve cultivated.” Cody paused again, looking away for_ a _moment while he spoke lowly into a comm, summoning someone into the briefing tent. In the corner, half shrouded in shadow and supposedly pouring over datapads and a holo with their current battle ground and troop positions (but Tig knew from talking to other brothers that, while he very likely was reading the datapads, their General missed nothing), was General Kenobi, a steaming cup of tea at his elbow. Tig watched his Commander and General’s eyes briefly meet before his attention was drawn to the opening of the tent when the flap was lifted_ and _another brother (in pink armor! This one had style) stepped in. He saluted first General Kenobi then Commander Cody before coming to stand just to Cody’s side. Cody gave him a quick nod of approval before returning his intense gaze to them._

_“This is Captain Toby. He’s been working with General Kaid for the past year, and now he’s your commanding officer. Take your cues from him, and don’t kark this up: it’s your last chance. Dismissed.”_

 

An absolutely terrifying encounter. 

 

After being ushered out of the command tent, Captain Toby pointed out their transport and told them to report back there once they’d gathered their kits and whatever else they wanted. He’d seemed harried and twitchy, and of course all this did was put Tig even more on edge than he had been. 

 

Saying goodbye wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Waxer and Boil were on the other side of the planet with half the company, so he gathered his things, wished his favorite sister, Fancy, luck and easy shooting, and left. The whole ordeal took about an hour, and Tig was sure he’d be the first one in his new squad to make it back, but as he walked up the loading ramp, he was met by the 501st ARCie.

 

“Need a hand?” He asked. Tig shrugged and allowed him to shoulder his weapons kit and helmet. His important gear, like his bomb kit and knitting needles, he kept on him. They walked into the ship, the ARCie leading the way.

 

“Name’s Blue, combat engineer, 21st then the 501st. I do a lot of ones. You?” The ARCie, Blue, said as they walked through the ship (seemed like the type a bounty hunter or smuggler might use, and what did that say about their Jedi and their mission?) until they reached the living quarters.

 

“Tig. Ordnance specialist. 212th since Kamino,” Tig replied, stating his name, specialization, and the units he’d been part of. 

 

They decided to share a room, slowly putting their stuff away and generally shooting the shit and  getting to know one another until the other two arrived and the whole process started anew, and while they were doing that (and Tig was starting to think he’d be able to at least stand Blue even if he was a sarcastic barve), their new Jedi poked her head in their door and introduced herself.

 

“ _Su cuy’gar_ , it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jotopa Kaid, Jedi Knight. What are your names?” Tig remembered flinching back, absolutely startled and mildly embarrassed by it. She’d popped up out of nowhere! Didn’t she know that was a good way to get shot? But there had been such an amused glint in her dark eyes that Tig later decided she did in fact know that and simply didn’t care. 

 

“T-Tig, sir,” he said once he swallowed his heart down. Beside him, Blue was also straightening himself.

 

“I’m Blue.” Blue said. The Jedi slowly looked them both up and down, and it felt as though she was sizing them up, comparing them to something. A pressure, one he associated with Jedi, brushed against his conscious mind for a brief second before retreating, and Tig breathed a silent sigh of relief.

 

“You’re Toby’s brother,” she finally said to Blue, and then, “I’m glad to have you both.” And she was gone as quickly as she arrived. 

 

Blue slumped against his bunk and ran a hand through his hair, his breath rushing out of him in a slightly shaky laugh. Tig raised his eyebrow.

 

“No wonder Toby’s so karking twitchy. She does that too many more times, and I will be too.”

 

But back on subject.

 

They were far past the known planets in the Outer Rim. Their new pilot (“Skunk. Pilot. 41st Elite Corps. I accidentally married a prince once.”) was relying on starcharts several decades out of date to reach some Jedi Outpost General Kaid insisted was there while their new Captain (“Toby. Stealth operations. None of your business.”) stood behind him and stared out of the viewport, his mouth set into an uneasy frown. 

 

Since the jump to hyperspace, their Jedi has been scarce. Logically, Tig knew she was on board and likely just occupied with whatever it was Jedi actually did, but knowing she was around and seeing her were two different things. And their new Captain didn’t make matters much easier: the only thing he’d done was set up watch (and the General’s name was on it! What kind of Jedi was this?) and ask Skunk and the one with the nasty scar (“Ash. Medic. 327th Star Corps. Don’t ask me to speak louder: I can’t.”) if they wanted to just do their specializations, and when the two of them agreed, showed them where the cockpit and sickbay were respectively. Other than that, he left them to themselves, occasionally speaking to Blue either before or after coming off his watch, but generally just being edgy and weird. 

 

“He’s not a bad guy,” Blue said just last night as they were settling down to sleep, “he’s just anxious.” He finished lamely, and Tig has snorted and let the matter go. So their Captain was anxious, huh?

 

Whatever the kriffing hell that meant.

 

“I’m picking up something on our scanners, sir, seems to be a small planetoid,” Skunk said, blessedly breaking the strained silence. Tig watched as Toby’s shoulders minutely sagged in relief. 

 

“Good work, Skunk. Get in a wide orbit around it, and I’ll get the General and see how she wants to do this,” Toby said, turning to walk away, but before he could do more than that, the door slid open, and the Jedi strode in.

 

“Find it?” She asked, brushing her fingers across Toby’s pauldron as she passed him and sat in the copilot’s chair. Skunk glanced at her, a shy smile on his lips that widened into a small grin when she returned the expression, and wordlessly pulled up their scanners’ readings. 

 

“You’re amazing, Skunk. This is the exact place,” General Kaid said, oblivious to the way Skunk flushed with pleasure at her unexpected praise. She stood, face set, and clapped her hands together. Behind her, Toby sighed, visibly exasperated.

 

“Sir, what are your plans?” Toby asked. Tig watched from the corner, curious and a little amused. From his Captain’s tone of voice, he could tell this was a sore subject between them, something the two had obviously argued about before. It seemed that Toby didn’t agree with whatever their Jedi had planned and wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

 

General Kaid slowly turned to face Captain Toby and favored him with a wide eyed look of innocence that Tig absolutely knew was fake.

 

“My dear Captain, we’ve gone over this several times: you and the rest of the  _cyare’se_ will stay here and monitor the situation while I go down and retrieve the holocron. Simple,” she said, and the Captain said something in response to that, but Tig was no longer paying him any mind. He was utterly focused on the word she’d used to refer to them, the ease with which she’d said it, the confidence. 

 

_Cyare’se_. Loved ones. She termed them that so easily, accepting them, a gaggle of cast offs and rejects that only their assorted Commanders’ collective pity had saved from reconditioning or worse, as her family as easily as he was sure she had done for Toby, and as easily as she wielded her lightsaber. And what’s more, she’d obviously referred to them in such intimate terms in private to their Captain because he wasn’t at all phased by what she said (well not by that; the Captain was plenty phased by her insistence on going planetside alone, and Tig didn’t blame his vod for that at all), and that, her easy acceptance of her new troopers and their place in her life, decided him.

 

“I’ll go with you, General Kaid, sir,” he said, interrupting the increasingly polite yet hostile argument unfolding between his Captain and General. Toby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but otherwise he kept quiet.

 

“Are you certain, Tig? I can handle myself,” General Kaid said gently. Tig pushes himself to his feet and snagged his helmet, pausing to meet her eyes before he put it on.

 

“I’m sure, sir. Always good to have another set of eyes, yeah? That’s what a team is for.” The pleased glint in Toby’s eye and the shy smile General Kaid shot his way were well worth the shitstorm he and his General found themselves in planetside.

 

When they finally returned six days later, he asked Toby if there was enough pink paint for him to redecorate his armor. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cyare’se: loved ones
> 
> Su cuy’gar: hello


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Jotopa talk about a serious matter

“Hello, Ash, mind if I sit with you for a while?” Jotopa’s voice was sweet and husky and filled with so much compassion that it took everything within him not to punch her in the face.   
  
His back was turned to her, so he was able to grimace even as he scolded himself for having such negative urges. He was a medic for star’s sake; he was supposed to care for everyone in his unit whether they be a brother or a Jedi. The General has gone out of her way up until then to be as scarce as possible, and anyway, his problem wasn’t with female aligned Jedi. He couldn’t stand to be around male presenting Jedi, especially if they were those half trained Commanders. Whenever one got within one hundred meters of him, it was like his entire body locked up, his breath refusing to leave his lungs, his blood like thick ice in his veins, his heart pounding and pounding in his chest as though it was trying to beat its way out and escape, and his mind, the worst of the bunch, stuck in the past, seeing the thin cable stretched between two trembling, blood drenched fists, pale brown face and forearms covered in blood and viscera from the clones already killed, the mad look in Vorran’s eyes and the way the very air around him pulsed and held Ash fast as the Padawan approached...   
  
It wasn’t Jotopa’s fault she was given damaged goods, just like it wasn’t General Secura’s fault one of her karking baby Jedi ( _a Senior Padawan, and you know his name better than your own, just like you knew his touch better than your own_ ) lost his shit and tried to kill all the clones under his command. Most days, Ash wished the stupid barve had succeeded and not come back to himself with the deed half done.   
  
_Focus_ , he scolded himself and cleared his throat, grimacing anew at the hoarse sound that emanated from the ruin of his throat.   
  
“Of course, sir. Have a seat.” He rasped, plastering his best smile on his face as he turned and gestured to an open chair. She smiled gratefully (and did she really think he would say no???)  and entered the small room fully, gingerly perching on the very edge of the indicated seat. Their ship was a midsize freighter, of the type that legit merchants and smugglers favored. The medbay has room enough for about three patients in total, and (to his great relief and pleasure) all the books and crannies were stuffed with any medical supply he might have wanted. From this small room, Ash could perform nearly any medical procedure; his only limitation was gumption and experience. Though he dearly missed his murdered brothers and the camaraderie they shared in the bustling Jedi cruiser with its sprawling medbay, Ash found that he enjoyed the solitude of his new space. In the three months that he’d been a part of the 115th, his new General and brothers seemed to sense that he preferred his own company. They left him to his own devices more often than not, crossing paths with him when they were injured on missions, leaving food and gadgets for him to find when they hadn’t seen him for several days in a row, or sometimes just sitting in a corner of medbay while he puttered around, offering their company and comfort without forcing him to speak or acknowledge them by having to sign.   
  
He appreciated all of them. Tig, who presented him with the softest blanket he’d ever touched a week after he’d tentatively signed that the medbay ran a bit colder than he was used to. Skunk, who always remembered to make him a plate of food even though they’d never said more than three words to each other. Blue, who sometimes asked for sleeping pills in the middle of the night and who would softly sing with him, automatically tuning his strong and sure voice to mesh with Ash’s weak and hesitant one. Toby, who always worked shifts in his favor and brought back things he thought might interest him from missions he went on. General Kaid, Jotopa, _kar’kad,_ who downloaded medical journals and tutorials onto his datapad, who would send Toby or Blue to find out what his interests were, who cared about all of them so much it confused him. He didn’t understand it. The care she showed to the Captain was easy enough to get: they were intimately involved and not doing a very good job of hiding that fact, but she barely knew the rest of them. How could she so genuinely want what she did for them, how could she refer to them as her _cyare’se_ as though they were batched or decanted together? He didn’t, couldn’t, trust it. And that was why he was glad she’d chosen to keep her distance thus far. And that was why he didn’t understand why she was deviating from that behavior now.   
  
“I don’t mean to bother you by encroaching upon your personal space, Ash, but I need your advice on something,” she said, watching him with earnest eyes and worrying her fingers. Ash felt something within him soften just that much, and he took a chance.   
  
“ _What’s wrong, sir? If I can help I will,_ ” he signed and watched in amazement as the tenseness of her posture relaxed while she read his hand movements. The grateful smile she sent him was sweet, but the anxiousness that quickly followed it put him more in mind of Toby than his normally relaxed Jedi. She bit her lip and looked away from him while she gathered her thoughts, leg beginning to jiggle as her nerves began to overwhelm her usual calm.   
  
“ _I...I think I’m ##$ &@/:/#%.” _ She signed. Ash cocked his head and made a face, confusion written all over his features. What the fek was that last word?   
  
“Sir?” He rasped. She laughed shakily and passed her hands over her face.   
  
“I said I think I’m pregnant, Ash.”   
  
Oh. _Oh_. Oh damn.   
  
“Oh.” What in the hell did she want him to do about it? He was built to take care of wounds not babies. A droid would be better equipped to deal with something like this so why in the hell...?He looked at her closely, realizing that his Jedi was absolutely terrified and that she had come to him because she trusted him. It was that same thing, the same thing that caused her to take such care of all of them, the same thing that caused her to call them her _cyare’se._  
She needed them as much as they needed her. Ash swallowed thickly.   
  
“I...I can perform a test to make sure...if you want, and if it turns out that you are, uh...expecting...we can decide what to do from there. Does Captain Toby know?” He asked. Jotopa shook her head and wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself.   
  
“No, I...I wanted to be sure first before I told him anything. Don’t want him to get worked up over it and it turned out to be nothing, ya know,” she said, and Ash chuckled softly, knowing that the Captain would have flipped his shit the instant she told him something like that.   
  
Ash took a deep calming breath and began looking through his compartments for what he needed. He remembered when he first did inventory on his supplies. He’d thought about throwing the tests out because it seemed so unlikely that his new Jedi would be dumb enough to get pregnant in the middle of a war. Items that had no use generally bugged him, but now he was glad he hadn’t gotten around to throwing them out just yet. Also, he couldn’t be sure, but he would need to start reading up on gynecology and childbirth and everything that went with that if he was going to be of any use to Jotopa (and Toby because something told him that the Captain would be asking him a million questions, and he’d better have the answer for every single one of them) in the coming months.   
  
Finding where he’d stuffed the testers in the far back behind his larger bacta pouches, Ash pulled one out of its protective packaging and squatted down next to Jotopa, pulling one of her calloused hands into his.   
  
“The test should...take about thirty seconds, sir. It’ll take some of your blood here,” Ash took a sample from her finger, and the device began analyzing it. “And if you are pregnant, two green lights...will show. If you’re not, two red lights will come one instead.”   
  
“Ah, okay, that’s simple enough,” Jotopa said, and by the time she finished speaking, the test was complete.   
  
Together, they stared at the two green lights shining merrily on the small tester. Jotopa slumped backwards into her chair and covered her face with her hands. Ash watched helplessly as she bodily shuddered, a small sob escaping her before she snapped her mouth shut and seemed to physically pull herself together. The air around her trembled as she wrangled her emotions under control, and Ash couldn’t help the near terrified twitching of his facial features as he felt the Force manifesting around him. He stood his ground, pushing back the panic and fear. She needed him, and he wouldn’t let his brokenness keep him from being of use to her.   
  
“I’m sorry, Ash. I know you didn’t ask for any of this, and now I can’t even keep my shit together to keep from scaring you. How am I supposed to have a baby or care for it when I can’t even control myself?” Jotopa said, bitterness and barely there fear coloring her voice. Ash risked patting her knee. She lowered her hands enough that he could see the wondering look on her face. He sighed.   
  
“I-I think...if you want the baby...you should keep it. You love Toby...and you take good care of all of us...so I know...you’ll take good care of the baby too.” Ash rasped, throat burning by the time he finished. This was why he preferred to sign over speaking. His throat and vocal cords strained under the pressure of saying more than a few words in a row, but it was important that she understand him. It was important to him that she keep this baby though he couldn’t have said why. He just knew she needed to, knew it more surely than he knew anything else.   
  
“You really think so?” She asked in a hushed voice. It was the middle of the night cycle after all. Ash squeezed her knee and nodded, gasping in surprise when she rocked forward and threw her arms around him in a loose hug.   
  
“Thank you, Ash. I knew you would know exactly what to do,” she breathed, and her confidence in him made his heart hurt. Slowly, he returned her embrace.   
  
“Glad I could help, sir.”   



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skunk POV and some drama to end the story.

“Mornin’ Skunkers, is is he, she, or they today?” Blue greeted with an annoying amount of cheerfulness as he dropped into the copilot seat. Eyes squinting in thought, Skunk considered the question carefully.

 

“He today, I think. Yeah. I’ll be a him today,” he finally answered. Blue nodded sagely and leaned back in his seat. The song that surrounded him (everyone had a song, and usually Blue’s was a low and mournful tune interspaced with trills of rage or brief happiness. He reminded Skunk of deep tides at sea) today was uncharacteristicly bright with leaping notes that told Skunk that Blue had a secret just bursting to be told. He waited patiently.

 

“Have you heard the news from medbay?” Blue finally asked. Skunk smiled to himself. Patience always won out. But this news...he wondered what it could be that even the ever gloomy (though he tried and failed to cover it with a mock cheerfulness that was sometimes grating on the ears) Blue was barely able to keep his excitement to himself.

 

“No, I haven’t. What’s Ash gotten into this time?” 

 

Blue rocked forward, quickly looking around the cockpit in that way he had when he didn’t want Toby to hear what he was saying. Despite himself, Skunk found his attention leaving the controls and focusing wholly on his excited vod. 

 

“We’re going to be uncles, ner vod. I heard Ash talking to our kar’kad last night. She’s going to have a baby,” Blue said in a hushed voice. Skunk’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up in surprise. So that’s what was going on with her song! For the past seven or eight weeks, he’d noticed that the General’s song, usually a lovely sotto that blended harmoniously with the Captains more frantic cadence, was slowly gaining a quiet note that, while small, was beginning to create a lovely duet with hers. The new song was small (he had to strain to hear it) but the sweetness of it tugged on his heartstrings every time he listened to it. More times than he could count, he had to stop himself from asking her where she picked up that pretty new tune. Something told him that he was better off keeping his strange ability to himself. It wasn’t something a clone was supposed to have, that much no one had to tell him. Since he was sure it wasn’t something that could be reconditioned out of him, Skunk didn’t fancy being ground up as nourishment and fed to his still incubating brothers on Kamino. But it was something he thought about, when he was alone in the cockpit with only the soothing song of space itself and his own much smaller song surrounding him.

 

Skunk suddenly snorted.

 

“How’re you gonna ask me if I’d heard about it when you only know cause you were eavesdropping?” He asked, shaking his head in amusement when Blue flushed and scratched the side of his face.

 

“Shut it; it was just an expression, and you know it,” Blue grumbled. His expression turned serious. “Toby’s going to lose his fekking shit when Jo tells him. It’ll be worse than the time our sister Kit had that pregnancy scare with her wife back on Sayydr VII,” he said with a quiet groan. Skunk nodded along, having no karking idea who Kit was but being intimately acquainted with the Captain’s tendency to plan everything out to the smallest detail. He was going to run their poor General up the wall.

 

Tig’s perpetual crescendo preceded him through the doorway, a clack that reminded Skunk of Tig’s knitting needles a solid percussion. “Good morning. She or he today, Skunk?”

 

“Good morning. He.” Skunk replied,  the familiar fission of happiness going through every time one of his new squad mates asked for his pronouns. While his original batch brothers and sisters tried their best to be understanding of his confusing relationship with his gender, the war just kept them too busy to bother with constantly asking him what he was on each given day. And he understood that, really he did, but he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel every time his new vod or the General asked him. 

 

“We’re finally out of hyperspace. Where are we headed?” Tig asked. Skunk checked his scanners before pointing at a pale pink dot in the upper right corner of the viewport.

 

“It’s called Fayulpan. Initial readings are indicating that it’s just barely in habitable range for humanoids. This far out into the Outer Rim, I’m sure it’s more Force shit,” he said, and Blue and Tig hummed in agreement. The four of them (that is, Blue, Tig, Ash, and himself) had collectively labeled any mission that didn’t directly relate to the war effort via intelligence gathering or surgical strikes or any of the other myriad missions Commander Cody sent their way and that didn’t necessarily need a Jedi to complete but instead dealt directly with retrieving lost or stolen or forgotten Jedi items or investigating suspicious wavers in the Force as sensed by the Masters back at the Temple as “Force shit.” It was basically the stuff General Kaid had gotten up to before the war started, and they were things that still needed doing, but them as soldiers more often than not got in her way. She generally was only accompanied on such missions by Captain Toby (or Blue and once Tig though he’d never willingly do that again) and only then as a way to soothe the Captain’s nerves. 

 

The Captain poked his head through the door then. “Morning. Formation in the kitchen in five. Don’t be late,” he said and was gone just as quick. Skunk put the autopilot controls on and rose from his seat, indulging in a full body stretch and yawn as he did so. Formation was just a quick rundown on their upcoming mission and the various assignments the Captain might have for them while the General and whomever was tasked to go with her did their business. 

 

“Shall we?” Blue said, waggling his eyebrows comically as he gestured towards the doorway. Skunk saw Tig roll his eyes even as he concealed a smile, and the three of them tripped down to the kitchen area.

 

The kitchen was only a little bit bigger than medbay, and it was just barely able to contain all six of them at once. The four of them sat around the dining table while General Kaid leaned against the stove, and Captain Toby stood in the open space reviewing a datapad. 

 

Of the six of them, only Toby, Blue, and Tig had their kits on. Jotopa, of course, was dressed in her usual strange blend of Mando and Jedi clothing while he had on his flight jumpsuit, and Ash was dressed in his medical scrubs. He only ever fully kitted up in emergency situations, and he honestly preferred it that way.

 

“Alright, so Skunk’s sent his initial scans of Fayulpan to my datapad, and I think it’s best that we spend as little time on planet as possible. There are fumes that can be toxic if breathed for too long, so you’ll need to wear your respirator, sir,” he said in the General’s direction. Next to him, Ash’s song became discordant with worry. “And whoever goes with her will need to have on a full kit. The Temple ruins are-”

 

“Excuse me, sir, but...I don’t think...the General should go on this mission,” Ash said, shooting their Jedi an apologetic look even as he interrupted Toby’s briefing. Jotopa grimaced and moved so that she could place one hand on a frowning Toby’s elbow. He shit her a bemused look.

 

“Why is that, Ash?” Toby asked. Skunk felt Ash shift uncomfortably in the seat next to him, and his song became even more fast paced and out of harmony.

 

“W-Well...sir...”

 

“He’s just doing the right thing, Captain,” Jotopa said, saving Ash from Toby’s heavy stare. She took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at Toby, “I’m pregnant.” 

 

The very air seemed to still while Toby processed her words. Skunk watched, breathless and for some reason absolutely terrified, as his Captain’s mind seemed to kick into overdrive, the play of emotions on his face too fast to process.

 

“Y-You’re having a baby?” Toby asked, voice faint. 

 

Jotopa nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It’s mine?” There was probably too much disbelief in Toby’s tone when he asked that, even to Skunk’s mind. 

 

Jotopa flinched. “You know it is,” she said, hurt. Toby nodded once, a short and jerky movement that told Skunk the Captain was working his way into an attack of some sort. Blue was half out of his seat, his body language broadcasting his indecision as openly as the look on his face.

 

“And you told the medic before you told me. Alright, sir.” He was out the door, datapad shoved into Blue’s hands. 

 

“Shit.” That was Tig. Jotopa laughed, the sound mildly hysterical.

 

“I know, right? Umm,” she was hugging herself tightly and swaying, and more than anything Skunk wished he could give her a hug right then. Her song was so miserable he wanted to weep. “Blue, and Tig you too, um, if you could -”

 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. Tig and I got this. You should get some rest for now,” Blue said, falling into his role easily. Jotopa smiled at him gratefully, accepting the comforting hand he placed in her shoulder and seeming to take strength from it. Blue bit his lip, seeming to come to some mental decision, and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he said relaxed their Jedi minutely, and she nodded briefly before bidding them all good day and walking out. 

 

“Damn. I definitely didn’t expect him to react like that,” Blue said with a shake of his head.

 

Skunk could only agree and hope everything would work out.

 

It had to; he couldn’t take losing another family. 


End file.
